Haylie rose. She paced backwards towards the door, searching for words, how to possibly say goodbye without saying goodbye.
Mary sat back in her chair, her restraints tugging at her arms, as she broke into a knowing smile. “Haylie—it so was wonderful to know you, dear. At least for a bit.” With another look up to the camera, she whispered. “Do stay in touch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Frankfurt, Germany
October 31st, 7:58PM
The last of the day’s pigeons scattered across the courtyard, nudging against each other like bumper cars, fighting for the same chunk of bread under the streetlights. Caesar brought up a list of Wi-Fi networks—the signals raining down from stacks of apartments on every side—and found one with that wonderful combination of a strong signal and terrible security. He logged in, activated his Tor browser, and connected to his online workspace.
“I don’t like being out here,” he mumbled, straightening his sunglasses. “We’re too exposed, even in the dark.”
“We’re fine,” Sean said, not even looking up from his laptop. “No one’s going to expect to find us in a place like this, and this is the best spot to get new Wi-Fi networks to use. Besides, you need to experience the nightlife. You look terrible.”
“Once we have all the data we need, I’ll look better.”
Caesar brought up his tracking app and did a check on Haylie’s ankle bracelet location, out of habit more than anything else. San Antonio again, looks like she’s on 35 headed up to Austin. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend down there? He closed the app and shook his head. She needs her privacy. Stop checking in on her—she can handle herself. Take care of your own problems.
Caesar and Sean had been waiting on the last push of data from their contact, who had suddenly gone dark on the other side of the world. It wasn’t strange for a hacker-for-hire to go days or weeks without communication—or even to just disappear off the face of the Earth—but it didn’t usually happen in the middle of a job. Not without some kind of warning.
“You sure we can’t just change the voting data after the fact, even in a few of the states?” Caesar asked. “We wouldn’t need personal details for that.”
“It looks like all of the systems were designed by the same government team,” Sean said. “I haven’t found any that allow votes to be changed after the initial entry—if they did, this whole thing would be a lot easier. Once a vote is cast, it’s locked in there.”
“But the bug you found—”
“We can write all the votes we want if we get into the system first—before a person votes. That means we can throw this whole damn election by voting for people who don’t show up.”
“Or by casting votes before people get to the polls.”
“Right,” Sean nodded. “But we have to do all that without anyone noticing. If every person in Florida votes at exactly 9 a.m. on Election Day, it’s going to raise a lot of eyebrows. We need to be smart about our patterns.”
“So what if we record someone’s vote and then they go into the booth? Does the system freak out if there’s already a vote in there?”
“No, I tested that,” Sean said. “The second vote just bounces off. No error, no nothing. You hear from your guy yet?”
“No,” Caesar said. “But let’s not panic. I sent him another piece of a hack this morning just to see if I could tease him out of the shadows, get him to respond. These people—they can be flaky. It’s just part of the business.”
Sean looked out into the glowing lights strung across the courtyard, fingers drumming across his keyboard. “There’s a chance he got caught, right?”
“By the feds?” Caesar laughed. “The odds of anyone in the government piecing this together are pretty close to zero. They must be completely heads-down so close to the election—just fixing bugs to make sure that nothing goes dark on the big day. Hell, with all the last-minute patches they must have, I’d guess they’re creating more security holes than they’re fixing. And nobody knows what we’re doing—not a chance.”
“Sure would be nice to have someone on the inside,” Sean said. “So we could find out for sure, you know?
“We don’t need anyone on the inside,” Caesar said, his eyes showing a spark. “I mean—we have all the access we need. We can get into any government system we want with the code from the Project.”
“You want to…” Sean watched Caesar carefully as he spoke. “You want to hack into the NSA?”
“Sure. Just real quick—in and out.”
“Like we don’t have enough going on?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to see what their systems look like,” Caesar laughed. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. And maybe you’ll calm down when we verify we’re not on their radar. Let me just find it here.”
Caesar brought up the folders full of code from the Project and began to wade through the contents. “Access to U.S. traffic networks, some agricultural systems.” His eyes grew wide as he read the next folder label. “Commercial Airline Systems Access.” He made a quick note of the location. “This one might come in handy someday.”
“You could say it louder,” Sean said, looking over his shoulder. “I think the guy in the far corner of the courtyard still can’t hear you.”
Caesar shook his head, ignoring Sean. “Okay—government systems. FBI central server, NSA intranet, CIA database.”
“Try the NSA,” Sean said between mouthfuls of his drink. “Those guys are always up to something.”
“N … S … A …” Caesar muttered as he read the instructions. He typed in the URL and credentials, finally landing on the home screen of the NSA’s internal network.
“Wow,” Caesar said. “That was a little too easy.”
“Search for anything about the Endling,” Sean said. “We need his case file. Do it fast—they might be monitoring those credentials.”
“Stop worrying so much.”
Caesar searched for a few minutes, finally locating the case file for ‘The Endling.’ He found a folder full of investigation briefs—information about raids on suspected locations, potential next targets, and a list of informants the NSA had contacted for information.
“They’re tracking him,” Caesar mumbled as he continued digging. “This folder structure makes no sense. It’s hard to tell what else is going on.”
He stumbled on a folder named ‘Suspects’ and clicked.
“Crap,” Caesar said. “They don’t have a name yet, but they have someone in custody. He’s in a detention center in Naperville, Illinois. This must be our guy. He got himself caught, the idiot.”
Taking a deep breath, Caesar gripped both sides of the laptop.
You can’t look nervous. Not in front of Sean. This isn’t a big deal.
“I knew it,” Sean said, slamming his hands down on the table. A few tourists, floating by with cameras in hand, quickened their steps across the courtyard, veering away from them.
“Could you chill the hell out?” Caesar said. “Who cares if he’s in custody? Hell, maybe that’s a good thing.”
“A good thing? How in the hell … Explain to me how this could even possibly be in the realm of_”
“The NSA has their man,” Caesar said with an artificial smile. “In their minds, they’ve captured the Endling, the man behind all these hacks. They’re drinking champagne back there in Naperville, Illinois, patting themselves on the back for the amazing job they did. That’s great for us.”
“That means he could talk.”
“It means they stop looking,” Caesar shot back. “Right now, I bet they’re focusing on getting him to talk—not looking for us. Plus, he doesn’t know a damn thing.”
“But what if he does know something? What if we screwed up somewhere?”
“Sean,” Caesar said, leaning in. “This is the whole reason we worked with a nutcase like the Endling to begin with. We needed a scapegoat—someone to blame just in case this happened—and voila, he’s playing the part perfectly.”
“Okay, okay,” Sean said, nodding in agreement. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we still need more data.”
“How much data are we talking about? How many votes do we need?” Caesar asked.
Sean did some quick calculations. “Just like, two per cent,” he said. “That’s the margin I need to turn Ohio over to Ortega. With that and Florida locked down, Hancock loses for sure.”
“Let’s work the problem,” Caesar said, calmly, methodically. “Why do we need the data?”
Sean, surveying Caesar with a suspicious eye, answered slowly. “Are you kidding? Didn’t we just—”
“Humor me.”
Sean reluctantly continued. “Without the data we can’t cast votes for people.”
Nodding, Caesar smiled. “So we need two per cent more votes for Ortega. Or…”
“Or what?” Sean asked.
“Or two per cent fewer for Hancock,” Caesar said.
Sean laughed. “Sure, whatever. But we can’t stop people from voting for Hancock. That’s not how this hack works,” he said.
Caesar rubbed his eyes and studied the lights switching off and on in patterns across the sides of the surrounding buildings as night fell. Some connecting, others scattering randomly. He looked back at Sean, chuckling under his breath. “So we just build a second system.”
“A second system? We don’t have time—”
“Sure we do. I can build it right now,” Caesar glanced down at his keyboard, nodding to himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.”
“I literally have zero idea what you’re talking about.”
“What’s the best way make sure—one hundred per cent sure—that someone can’t vote?” Caesar asked.
Sean shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, dude. Put a rational person on the ticket?”
“No,” Caesar said. “It’s easy to stop someone from voting. We just kill them. We kill them all.”
The table went silent. Sean stared back at Caesar in disbelief, watching him carefully, waiting for him to reveal the real answer. But Caesar sat silent.
Sean checked to see if anyone was nearby before leaning in close, bringing his voice down to a hush. “What the hell are you talking about, man?”
Caesar laughed. “Dead people can’t vote, Sean.”
“You want to kill…” Sean stammered. “You want to kill two per cent of Ohio?”
“No. Just two per cent of the people in Ohio that are going to vote for Hancock,” Caesar said, nodding to himself.
I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.
“Are you okay, man?” Sean asked. “Do you need a day off or something? I know we’ve been through a lot, but—”
Caesar laughed. “We’re not really going to kill them, Einstein.” He cracked the lid to his laptop. “Send me a list of names for all likely Hancock voters in the Ohio precincts.”
Caesar logged back into the anonymous shared workspace where he saw Sean’s avatar staring back at him in the sidebar, one new message waiting. He grabbed the data Sean had sent his way and scanned the location fields: all from Ohio, all from key precincts in that state. He sorted by age and deleted everyone under sixty-five years old, ending up with a list of around ten thousand.
“What do we know about older voters?” Caesar asked Sean.
“They’re unlikely to switch political parties,” Sean said. “And they turn out to vote in larger numbers.”
“You’re forgetting the most important thing,” Caesar said. “Old people are more likely to die.”
“Why do you keep talking about people dying?” Sean asked. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Because the system for keeping and changing personal records is completely computer-based in Ohio,” Caesar said. “I’m writing a script to ingest each record and ping the Ohio Death Registry.”
Sean looked off into the courtyard as he slowly began to nod. “The Death Registry. Votes would be cross-referenced there. If someone had passed away, they would be void from casting a ballot. We have all the data we need for the registry—name, social security number, birth date.”
“Looks like Ohio requires that each record of death be signed off by a registered funeral director,” Caesar said, checking the input fields in the system. “But that can be done electronically. I’ll write a scraper to collect funeral director names from search results, randomize them, and match them with the death records.”
After a few more minutes of coding, Caesar hit “return” to bring his script to life. He watched the output as names scrolled down the screen; records being written to the death registry, one at a time.
Gagne, Martin
Status: Deceased
Confirmation: 78AG990
Carmel, Cynthia
Status: Deceased
Confirmation: 78AG992
Caesar’s script worked its way through the list, using random timing intervals to fool the systems on the other side into believing this was a seemingly natural pattern. As the script ran, Sean recalibrated his Ohio code to adjust for the shift in votes. There was nothing left standing in the way of them changing the course of history.
The courtyard grew with activity as the nighttime crowd floated away to their different corners, arms over shoulders, and slow, heavy steps into the night.
“Is the code working?” Sean asked, taking a sip of coffee.
“Yeah, it’s killing everyone.”
“Cool,” Sean replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Littlefield Hall, University of Texas
Austin, TX
October 31st, 10:01PM
“Is that all you can remember?” Agent Hernandez said, scanning the government paperwork strewn across Haylie’s desk for any missing fields. “Any other details?”
“I don’t think so.” She paged through the last few sheets of paper, willing her hand to stay still. “It’s all in here: the van, the virus, the meeting in Naperville. I just wish I could have gotten something out of him.”
“You did fine,” Hernandez said, pulling the papers back across the desk. “You’re new at this. You did what you were supposed to do.” His smile only made her feel a deeper pain in her stomach.
You don’t owe him anything.
You have a job to do. Your job is to find your brother.
“I tried,” she said. “He was a pretty weird guy, right? Like, what’s his story?”
“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Hernandez said. “Sometimes—people just are who they are. No big motive, no evil plan. They just want to do things.”
Haylie shrugged. “Well, at least that gives you job security.”
Hernandez nodded, looking down to his watch. “Time for my status call with headquarters.”
“Am I … Do you think I’m going to get credit here? Anything that might reduce my sentence?”
“Oh, right,” Hernandez said, rubbing his hands together and looking like he was avoiding that subject on purpose. “I’ll be honest with you. The answer is: I don’t know. With the NSA, I’d have to say I wouldn’t count on it. Showing that you were the reason we got the Endling could be … tricky.”
“Tricky?” Haylie repeated, adjusting her glasses. “So, if I had a government translator here, that would probably mean another year of this?” She lifted her ankle, pointing it in Hernandez’s direction.
“I can’t say for sure,” Hernandez said. “But what I would say this: don’t wait around for a miracle. I mean, you’re in college, for christsakes. Look at me—you see how boring I am, right? Even I had a blast in college. Don’t wait around for someone to tell you that you can start living your life.”
Haylie slouched, pulling her hair back behind her neck and letting it fall down on her shoulders. Her mind was already out there, on the run with Vector, trying to stay one step ahead.
He has no idea, he doesn’t have a clue about what’s about to happen. Keep it that way, Crash.
“What about Liam?” Hernand
ez said, a new optimistic light dancing in his eyes. “Sorry, I mean Vector. What about you two? You can’t tell me there isn’t something going on there.”
Haylie took a deep breath. Play the part. She looked up at the ceiling, pretending to be embarrassed, which wasn’t that hard. “Dunno,” she said, softly. “Never really thought about it.”
“Oh, come on,” Hernandez laughed. “You can tell me. I feel like we know each other after all this, at least a little bit. There’s something there, and you know he’s waiting for you to send him a signal. Maybe that could be a nice way to spend the next year?”
There was a knock on the door—Vector’s knock. Agent Hernandez beamed as he rose from his chair. “I wonder who that could be?” He made his way to the door and turned back towards her before reaching for the knob. “I’m on your side, Haylie. And I think the only thing you’re guilty of is being at the wrong place at the wrong time. But for now, we’re both kind of stuck here. I say we make the most of it.”
He cracked the door as Vector’s face appeared. Vector jumped back into the hallway, surprised to see Hernandez. Hernandez passed him on his way out as Vector managed to mutter a low greeting of some sort.
Vector waited for the door to shut and then spun wildly in Haylie’s direction, pointing back at the hallway. “What was that all about?” he whispered. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing, dummy,” Haylie said. “Just finishing up a report. He doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Good,” Vector said, nodding to himself and peeling his backpack off his shoulders. “Very good. Well, what we’re about to do certainly won’t look good on his record. Can you imagine the paperwork he’s going to have to fill out tomorrow once we’re long gone?”
Crash Into Pieces (The Haylie Black Series Book 2) Page 18